deadliestviper | 013 TEXT LIST TWO/SPAM

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013 TEXT LIST TWO/SPAM

Backdated to three days after the Overlook port.

[Locked to Friends (if she's ever told you anything personal, you're on here)]

That port was fucked up for everyone and it hit all of us hard. After going through that I know most of you aren't feeling up to par yet, but when I get anxious, I get antsy. I've laid low to lick my wounds long enough. For the next few hours I'll be playing pool and pretending everything's normal if you've got the energy or inclination to join me.

[Spam, Level 6]

[Rack the balls in the pyramid, set the cue-ball, chalk the cue evenly, line up the shot, break it; Beatrix repeats the pattern over and over again, sinking balls into the table's pockets before starting anew. It's not for practice or any particular love of the game, it's not even for fun. It's just that playing strikes that perfect balance of skilled focus and monotony that allows her to zone out, and the last thing she wanted to do right now was let her mind wander. It was already hard enough to push the images of Sarah and that thing in room 217's bathroom from the forefront of her mind – what she needed, wanted, was someone to talk to, distract her.

But no matter how deeply you repress it, you can't squelch a thought. So by all means, join her, but take care if you point out that she's humming "Love Me Tender."]

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If you don't sleep, it's only a different kind of nightmare that comes for you.

[He trusted everything, back there; and maybe Rhade is right, maybe eventually that place would have used his easy trust to lead him into some kind of fatal trap, but it had been so, so comforting while it lasted. Like he had finally done something right, that he had protected people he's beginning to care about.

But he hadn't, he can't; the Barge, the Admiral, whatever is in charge, it does what it wants. At least it's familiar, even if it's not comforting.

Ben taps his fingertips idly on the edge of the pool table, considers pushing one of the balls instead, but makes no move to disrupt whatever game she is, in fact, playing. Instead he glances up to consider her last statement.]

Were you harmed?

I sleep, just not much. [There's no order to the game, if you can even call it that. She stopped playing by proper rules ages ago, what's left over is merely the work of idle hands. She watches him, waiting to see whether he'll reach onto the table and play himself. Maybe it shouldn't surprise her that he doesn't.]

Not recently. A long time ago.

[He leaves his hand there a few moments longer, but ultimately withdraws it to fold, loosely, behind his back with the other. The first he empathizes with - he doesn't need to sleep much, either, but he suspects he could do with sleeping more than he does; the second makes him cock his head slightly though his expression, or general lack thereof, doesn't really change.]

I remember, possibly. [She'd said about her daughter, about how she'd rather not talk about it to any extra people.] You don't have to tell me.

[Every time he pulls back like that, she's compelled to reach out and touch him – to squeeze his shoulder or brush his hair back from his eyes, to give some human indication that he's done nothing wrong. But she doesn't – she's too unsure how he'll react.]

You do, huh? [The kid's smart, she shouldn't be surprised.] I don't mind.

[He doesn't specifically behave in such a way as to disinvite being touched, so much as he never learned to invite it; besides, it rarely did him any favors, either. Only silence, obedience, and endurance.

Then there was his unit.]

Would... talking about it... help you? I am equally capable of listening or "pretending everything is normal."

[Perhaps it's just her own reservation, then – she never would have reached out to comfort O-Ren or Vernita, even when they fought as comrades – they probably would have slapped her hand away. She'd have done the same to anyone offering the gesture as well, save for Bill.]

It wouldn't hurt anything, but only if you want to listen. You don't have to pretend around me.

It's been long enough that it's part of my normal now. [Which is a lie, or maybe a stretched truth. It's become just another hateful part of her past, but talking about it brings back the sting.] Four and a half years ago I was shot. I spent a long time in a coma after that.

Guess we'll see. [He limbers up and grabs the ball rack, then walks over and starts setting up.]

[He looks up at her question.] Lot of people died including Richie, and the guy who did it's his damn Warden. So...I've spent several days now restraining myself from breaking my fist on his face.

Other than that I'll live. You?

[If he were a better soldier, he wouldn't need the comfort; he knows that, he's learned to deal with it as best he can, to the point he doesn't know whether or not he needs it anymore.

She tells him he doesn't have to pretend and he thinks about laughing, but doesn't. Merely waits for her to decide whether they'll do as she specified in her message, or if she'll share with him.

And when she does start, he doesn't hear anything especially hateful; he's been desensitized to violence, perhaps, or perhaps he knows she's standing here so she was obviously, at least, physically alright.]

You've recovered well. [He never forgets about what she said when she revealed her real name, and it's easy to make the logical step.] It was intentional?

[True; in terms of comfort, soldiers starve. All they could give is rationed to keep them sane in times of battle, it's not given to others. In that sense perhaps it's kinder for Beatrix to remain removed, but she's still tempted to give it.]

I made it out alive. [There is no thankfulness in that statement. She'd woken into a nightmare, one she would have preferred death to facing.] Yes.

Edited 2012-12-07 00:56 (UTC)

[Ben understands that, too; his unit had wished their entire lives to be taken somewhere other than Manticore. When they'd escaped out into it, in the end, he'd wanted nothing so much as to go back to what was familiar. Then it had become a real threat and he'd asked Max to kill him rather than face it again.

He considers her now; hears the words unspoken between the lines, and instead asks,] Is that what was troubling you... in that place?

[It was similar, for Beatrix. She had been not only perfectly content with her world, she had grown to thrive in it – she was not just a hired gun, she was one of the five best killers in the world, proud of all her murderous skills and her place at Bill's side as protegé and lover.

Then there had been that little blue line on the pregnancy test and everything changed, but the civilian world wasn't as easy to disappear into as she thought.] No. That was something else entirely.

Not really. Not because it's not something that's interested me--there are just a lot of careers I don't know about.

[Needs to look into a career manual or something.]

What could you see me doing for a living? Outside of superhero type stuff.

I see.

[He does and he doesn't; it seemed to be something a little different for everyone, and he can't begin to guess at the source or the cause. Or, for that matter, the point. Ben drops his gaze down to the table again, tilts his head. When he speaks, it's with a slightly hollow quality to his voice; he's thought this before.]

I'm beginning to wonder if we're ever meant to get out of this place. The challenges are senseless and in many cases insurmountable.

And that's if we have something to go back to.

[She stands and moves over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder – reassuring, please let him see it as reassuring.] Hey. Look at me. Don't let this place break you, Ben. You're stronger than that.

If I were you I wouldn't have bothered with the restraint. [Is that admiration in her voice? It might be, if you squint.]

Not dead yet. Or any deader than I was when I got here. How's Richie holding up?

Hm. I don't know, honestly, maybe civil service. [He'd make a hell of a firefighter.] What do you like doing? If you're looking for a career, that's a good place to start.

I don't know. I'd like to make enough money to buy a nice house. [That's as far as he's gotten. At least this time around he wants to earn money, instead of stealing it like he did back in his world.]

There's a lucrative job in every field. What or who do you like being around? Nature? Animals? Kids?

I like using my hands for things. I enjoy making stuff in the art room. Maybe I can get into construction or creating sculptures. I can manipulate most materials in any way I want.

You sculpt? Have you done any artwork here?

Carpentry might be a good option too. It's pretty steady work, from what I know, and you can be your own boss. No supervisors.

A little. I've sculpted some stuff out of ice cream if that counts. [Grins sheepishly.] I put it together in a big pile and then chowed it down.

I like the sound of that. Hey, Bea! Whenever you graduate, you'll have to come visit Steph and I at our home. [Purposefully saying "whenever you graduate" over "if you graduate".]

It counts, but it's not going to get you remembered after your time.

Really, you want me dropping in on you guys?

Why wouldn't I? [Chuckles, looking at her like she just asked him an incredibly silly question.]

You've never heard that story about the woman and the snake, have you?

[Shakes his head.] What story is that?

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013 TEXT LIST TWO/SPAM

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